


me and my husband

by meshizuru



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Healing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Reflection, Soda is bad at wingmanning, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, post-dr3, references to pain in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27773215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meshizuru/pseuds/meshizuru
Summary: Komaeda broke his arm.Hinata fixes it and gives it back.Somehow his luck cycle still persists, in funny ways.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 22
Kudos: 226





	me and my husband

**Author's Note:**

> for the full experience i felt while writing this dumb gay little thing listen to mitski babes  
> based off a comic my boyfriend drew, the idea belongs to him, @nanacka / @nananacka

Komaeda broke his arm.

Not his real arm, of course. The black and white metal arm that replaces his long gone left arm, so graciously crafted for him by Hinata.

By now, it’s changed and been upgraded so many times, Hinata always finding ways to tinker with it and improve it. What else are they going to do, after all? Island life is all they have now, ironically enough, as the world stabilizes over the years, Naegi has more parts to send, new technology for Hinata to rip apart and make sense of.

That doesn’t stop Komaeda’s luck from finding incredible ways to break it. And this time, it was particularly bad.

“I think…” 

Komaeda furrows his brows and frowns down at his stub, the damaged prosthetic absent, currently in Hinata’s hands.

“Hajime might be mad at me right now,” he finishes.

A bad tumble down a hill that led him crashing straight into their precious orange tree that had just begun blooming with fruit. He landed on it a few separate times, and cracked the outer plate, spilling some of the contraption’s guts, rendering it non-functional.

But he trusts that Hinata will have no issue fixing it, as horrid of a fix it’ll be. With Kamukura lurking still in part within him, in the part of his brain that is exceptionally good at well, everything, and the part that Hinata is a bit ashamed of. (Though Komaeda often thinks of him as the part of his boyfriend that’s incredible at rattling every detail of something miniscule purely from memory, the part that remembers small and unimportant facts about everyone, the part that’s a bit rough but has grown more stable with time, and on top of it all, the part that is particularly good with his _hands_ ). Every time there’s an issue, Hinata is able to fix it perfectly, with varying degrees in time taken.

This time, he’s taking particularly long, so much so that Komaeda attempted to check on him, offer advice, maybe an apology or three, and he’d been shooed away with a hasty, red-faced, “Don’t look!”, followed by a stuttering, “U-Uh, I mean… could you wait a bit longer?” And Hinata can be standoffish, but he usually doesn’t push Komaeda out like that. Not anymore, not unless something is wrong.

“So clearly, he must be mad at me,” he finishes his explanation, sending a pensive look in Soda’s direction, before sighing softly and slumping his shoulders. “Hajime works so hard, and it broke worse than usual this time. I’d understand being so angry that it’d be hard to look at me.”

Soda scoffs at the self deprecation that trails off, clearly annoyed. “Hasn’t Hinata told you to cut that crap?” he chides, nudging Komaeda gently with his arm, which makes the pale boy flinch away from it and laugh awkwardly, though it’s not with unfamiliarity. Soda means nothing by it beyond getting his friend to stop talking himself down.

Komaeda’s shoulders shake with a little shrug and light laugh, fumbling with his jacket strings and looking down at his lap. He smiles sheepishly, as bashful as always when his negativity is confronted with kindness. “Old habits die hard, I guess. But I mean it. He must be mad at me, I don’t know why else he’d be acting like this...”

With a roll of his eyes, Soda leans forward on the dining hall table they’re sharing, a plate shoved forward that’s been licked clean of Hanamura’s dinner for the day. Komaeda’s own small portion is similarly gone, instead distracting his hands by fidgeting with his hoodie. Idly, he pulls the drawstring taut, feeling the fabric cinch up unevenly, before releasing it as Soda takes in an audible breath to start speaking. 

“Anyways,” Soda starts, bringing a hand up to scratch at his nose with his index finger, avoiding any and all eye contact with Komaeda, suspiciously, “Maybe Hinata just. Forgot how it works… or something,” he clears his throat, “Yeah.”

Komaeda’s brows raise and eyes go round as he stares at Soda, who is pretending to look very hard at his empty dish to cover up how piss poor that excuse was (as if he has that self awareness). He darts his eyes up to the corners, peeking at Komaeda for a split second, then glances back down again quickly, like a frightened pet caught in the act. Komaeda’s quiet for a beat or two, before his lips stretch into a knowing smile, eyes thin and smug as he rests his chin in palm.

“You’re acting quite suspicious, Soda-kun,” he leans in closer.

Soda nervously laughs the accusation off and tips back in his chair, away from Komaeda's intrusive gaze; he does it a bit too abruptly, close to toppling over as he waves off his obvious nervousness before lazily pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Says the one who thinks his boyfriend is mad at him over a prosthetic.”

Komaeda breaks out into a soft chuckle and lets up on his prodding, relaxing all his weight and leaning on his hand, a soft sigh escaping him. Even after all this time, it's difficult for Komaeda to not assume he's done something wrong, that it'll all end because he's a horrible partner, and maybe he just makes Hinata miserable, maybe he's bored by him, putting up with him, and if it weren’t for Komaeda tying him down, he could do _so much better_ —he stops for a second to mull over Soda’s reaction, his insistence on no wrongful feelings, and after a second of respite, he stands up.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right,” Komaeda says, chair squeaking as he pushes it out behind him.

“I am!” Soda chimes in, watching him stand up and suddenly grinning brightly, no longer anxious and a bit more self-assured in his (shitty) lying. “Trust me. You’ll see.”

Komaeda quickly fixes his jacket and smooths it out, hiding his nubby arm within his big pocket. With a gentle grin, he looks down at Soda.

“Thank you for the reassurance, Soda-kun,” he begins, and Soda tilts his head a bit, still grinning with his painfully sharp teeth. “I know if he _was mad_ , you wouldn't hold back, or sugarcoat it. So, I’ll be going now.”

Soda begins to mumble a cocky, “No problem…” but then Komaeda steps away from the table and he quickly blurts out, “H-Hey, wait!”, making Komaeda stop in his tracks.

“Uh, y-you should _totally_ go to the beach,” Soda stammers out.

“Oh?”

“Yea! It’s like, _really_ cool today!”

Komaeda keeps smiling blankly at him, and it’s almost annoying how clearly he knows Soda is bullshitting his way through something he was put up to. Likely by Hinata. No, most definitely by Hinata.

With his smile turning fond, Komaeda waves his hand and turns to leave, “I didn’t know the beach could get _cooler_! But, I’ll take your word for it, Soda-kun. Thank you.”

Soda might’ve grumbled something as he left, but he didn’t catch it.

_Hajime really needs to invest in a better wingman._

-

The ocean breeze is nice and cool, which is always soothing. The sun is hanging low, by now, and the sky begins to fade into darker purples and blues, a bright sunset orange on the horizon that glimmers off the ocean waves. Komaeda leaves footprints in the sand as he walks along the coastline leisurely, but he knows where he's heading.

There's a particular palm tree that's growing too close to the coastline. Really, it's strange how it is. It's bent awkwardly, on top of that, as if pointing toward the water. Toward the horizon. It's not that big, actually, it's pretty short, which provides shade just beneath it.

And if you stare at it long enough, you might get the lingering sense a monitor should have been fixed on it; maybe in another lifetime, another world.

With a delicate hand, Komaeda brushes his fingertips against the bark, and it's rough but fragile, with layers to tear away at. They form a pattern akin to scales, prickly but fraying all the way down and up, and big, floppy, healthy green leaves sprouting out the top.

The truth is, it's artificial. The tree is real, no, but. It's not the tree they'd sat beneath, the one that had a gacha machine fixed to it and spat out finely tailored gifts, the one that pointed toward that spot on the shore Hinata had laid unconscious, waves lapping at his feet. The "real" one, the one that he felt he knew better once upon a time, was _actually_ artificial, in fact, a bunch of pixels and lines of code strung together to look like this one.

But a lot of things are like that, now. Real things that stir up artificial memories of a digital paradise, more real but not their original. Manufactured perfection that had so quickly devolved into despair, into murder, suspicion, sorrow. As if their pain and suffering was always inevitable, even in a world created to cushion them from it.

Sometimes Komaeda wonders where he would be if none of it had ever happened.

And if he truly bet on it, he'd say dead. For good, this time, maybe.

Komaeda lets his hand slide off the trunk, and steps forward to the wet sand, where waves are currently rocking upward and meeting land. Bending down, he unzips his shoes and carefully steps out of them, setting them aside, before rolling up the ends of his skinny jeans and cuffing them high up. The cold, foamy water hits his toes and stings, making him tense up and laugh with his shoulders, shaking off the freezing shock.

He only walks in until the water is about a quarter up his shin before he stops, not daring to go deeper. Luck doesn't scare him as much anymore, feeling safer within the confines of the island, of Hinata's consideration, his care, like his own luck shields him, but he also has many memories of nearly drowning that remain a bit too fresh to wander out in the water alone. And surprisingly, he values his life a little more than before.

With his arms wrapped around himself to shield from the biting breeze, he watches the sun inch down further and further, and a smile spreads on his lips without him realizing it. The wind wisps at his hair, and it curls up in his face, but he doesn't care much. A little giggle erupts in his chest as a giddy feeling overtakes him, and just as it slips out,

"H-Hey!"

Still grinning, Komaeda drops his arms, shoving his hand into his pocket and letting his nubby arm idle at his side. He turns to face him, head tilted and smile obvious. 

Hinata is approaching him with a satchel thrown over his shoulder, and nervousness written all over his face. 

"Sorry about all that," Hinata laughs awkwardly, adjusting the strap where it's hanging across his chest and clearing his throat. He puts his hand on the bag's flap, "Your arm should be fine now."

In response, Komaeda gives that sunny smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he holds out his left arm, the cuff of his jacket drooping over it as he beams, "That's a relief!"

With some urgency, maybe panic, Hinata quickly fishes the bionic out of his bag, fumbling with the parts and approaches Komaeda with it. He grips the end, where it meets at his elbow, and pushes back Komaeda’s sleeve so he can slip it on. 

"The sea is, um, nice right now, right?" Hinata mumbles as he tinkers with the arm, the tips of his ears burning. He's avoiding eye contact as he speaks. Komaeda is a bit confused as to why he's so flustered, but endeared.

_It's painfully obvious Soda-kun set up this date for you,_ Komaeda thinks, _you're still so nervous?_

"Ah, as always," he hums, watching Hinata's face snap the last bits in place, looking like he's gulping down fear and nerves as he secures the band up on his bicep. Once it's in place, Hinata withdraws his hands and steps back rigidly, hands balled up into fists at his sides, like he's anticipating something. Probably to see if it works fine?

Experimentally, Komaeda attempts to wiggle his fingers without looking, and they flutter a little and curl into his palm. He can vaguely feel the breeze on his artificial fingertips, so he glances down to look at the hand, finally, black and white casing dull in the sunset. 

"Thank you, Hajime. It's–"

His eyes widen.

The last remaining sunbeams of dusk glint off a golden, metal band on his ring finger.

That wasn't there before.

The wind is stolen from his lungs when he looks back up and finds Hinata, face burning a warm shade of red all the way down his neck, lowering himself onto one knee shakily. The bag has been discarded into the sand behind him in a heap. Hinata looks like he might combust, and Komaeda feels similar, standing dumbfounded with his mouth agape.

"Nagito–"

Komaeda can feel his shoulders seize up as he forces out a quiet, " _Hajime–_ "

"Shit. Um," Hinata shuts his eyes and seems to plead with himself to behave. He takes a deep, calming breath, and speaks with a bit more cadence, confidence. "It's been over, 3 years now. S-Since you woke up. And," he has to choke something down. Nerves, maybe, or something stuck in his throat.

Komaeda’s eyes are watering. He realizes it when the shimmers in his vision stop being just the sunlight reflecting off the ocean.

"And we've been together for about that long, too," he speaks like he rehearsed these words in the mirror, over and over. _Maybe that's why it took so long_ , Komaeda thinks. "...Even when you're being a pain, I-I really love you, Nagito."

With a restrained grimace, Hinata seems to stop, visibly cringing at himself.

"Even after practicing this, it's so lame," he grumbles, then groans softly. "That just made it lamer. Sorry."

"No, no, no," Komaeda wipes some tears from his eyes as he rushes the words out and stumbles forward, sinking into the sand as he gets on his knees, too, reaching his hands out to gently hold Hajime's in both of his. "It's not, love. Go on."

Hinata swallows thickly and holds Komaeda’s hands back tightly, cracking a nervous smile. He shifts so he's holding the bionic one between both his palms, and looks down at the ring to remind him just what he's doing.

"I know it's kind of stupid. There's no government or anything, no official documents we can put this on. But, um," he curls the metal fingers inward and hooks his own fingers beneath it, bringing the hand up to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to the cold knuckles. He gives Komaeda that unsure, but genuine smile, browline relaxing, teeth showing, and the indents of his dimples appearing. The smile that smells like sunflowers and citrus, that feels like a warm embrace, a soft kiss. It envelopes him with his gentle, smooth voice.

"I want you to marry me, Nagito."

Komaeda makes a quivering noise like a gasp, caught in his windpipe; finally hearing the question posed seems to shatter something within him. "A-Ah," he sniffles, bowing forward and cupping Hinata's face between his hands, pressing his forward against his. Warmth blooms in his chest, fills every empty space, makes him whole. "Hajime…"

With fragments of composure slipping through his fingers, Komaeda shoves his lips against Hinata's, more to feel him, to be close, to smush their faces together and pour the overflowing emotions onto him so he can feel his heart burst as he shoves it in his hands.

Their lips lock, slide together like they're two pieces made to fit perfectly within one another's confines, before Komaeda trembles with a shaky breath, a sob in his chest, and pulls away.

"Of course," he croaks, and watches as the tension in Hinata’s shoulders melt away completely with those words. "I must be… so lucky, Hajime. So lucky you love me," he pauses as he's lead into a quick peck, "so lucky you want to live with me," he drops his hands onto Hinata's shoulders and buries his fingers in the fabric as a means of tethering himself to Hinata, to reality, "so lucky you can even _tolerate_ me–"

"Hey," Hinata cuts him off with soft chide, voice beginning to sound like it's been rubbed at with sandpaper, hoarse and raw; and his own eyes have begun to well up with the beginnings of tears. 

"Sorry," Komaeda smiles sheepishly and sniffles; he leans forward to kiss him again, soft and sweet, as an apology. "Is it obvious my answer is yes, at least?"

"Kinda, yea," he laughs, and it's soft, like he's laughing all those nerves he'd built up from the anticipation of this right off his back. He squeezes his hands around the metal, and Komaeda feels nothing but warmth ghost through his senses as Hinata leads him in and kisses him again. Their lips linger longer this time, ocean breeze caught between them, getting wispy white strands of hair in their eyes as Komaeda wraps an arm around his neck and holds him closer. 

Hinata is thankful for their luck, and for the fact that this section of the beach is secluded against rocky mounds and palm trees, because he's not sure he could live with himself if anyone saw him pouring his heart out while waves crash against their legs. He feels a bit pathetic, his knees soaked through with grains of sand stuck to the denim, but he's less wet than Komaeda, who's taking the brunt of the rolling water that creeps up their shins.

They part from the kiss, and Hinata takes a quiet breath.

"Uh," he nervously shifts, placing his hands on Komaeda’s hips and cracking a bashful smile. "I kinda haven't thought much past the proposal, though. I figured you'd be better at… planning a wedding. Whatever you wanna do, though."

"Hmm," Komaeda cups Hinata's face with his hand that's just skin and bones, feeling the indents and ridges of his face like he can't see them, like he needs to paint a picture in his mind to make up for it. "I'm surprised you'd actually want a ceremony. It could be like those cheesy beach weddings, but out of necessity since that's the only venue we have! Haha."

Hinata snorts and leans into his touch, pulling him closer.

"Beach wedding sounds… yea, it sounds cheesy beyond belief. Jeez," he shuts his eyes, tries to envision that future, wonders who would walk down the aisle. Komaeda, probably. Hinata gets the distinct feeling he'd keel over and die if he was at the center of attention like that; it'll be nerve-wracking enough to be one of the grooms, at all.

His eyes flutter open, finding Komaeda’s closed and serene smile on his face.

"Soda wants to be my best man," he mumbles.

"Oh?" Komaeda peeks his eyes open. "That's not surprising. I don't think anyone would want to be mine, though."

Hinata clicks his tongue, frowning. "That's not true, c'mon," he squeezes his hands on his hip bones to be assertive, "who would you even want?"

"...I don't know," he admits quietly. "I guess it's something to give thought, but I'm honestly supremely lucky enough that someone even wants to _marry m_ –"

The waves suddenly crash particularly hard and high, splashing water up Komaeda’s back and soaking him, nearly knocking him over like a bowling pin into Hinata. It elicits a yelp and shiver as everything suddenly becomes freezing, damp hair now stickly coldly to the nape of his neck, and curling inward toward Hinata.

"Oh, fuck," Hinata pulls back and grabs Komaeda’s arms, trying to haul him up. He'll go ballistic if Komaeda gets a cold because of him, when he's been trying _really_ hard to thwart the bad luck; this'll just be a slap in the face. "That's what we get for sitting in the tide. God. Come on."

Komaeda is giggling through his shivers as he stands up in his arms, not that Hinata finds it all that funny. Concern furrows his brow, and he's already mentally preparing himself to hear sniffles come tomorrow morning. 

The sun is almost gone, the sky nearly pitch black, and Komaeda is drenched, slumped in Hinata’s embrace for warmth. The parka is drooping with the weight of water soaked in it, droplets dripping around his feet and sinking into the sand, and despite all of that he's grinning wildly.

"At least I didn't lose the ring," Komaeda mumbles, his smile audible despite his face being a bit too close to being smushed against his chest. The position makes Hinata's face burn up again. 

"Don't speak it into existence," Hinata grumbles, and squeezes one of Komaeda's hands in his, straightening up both their postures. "Let's get inside, before you start sneezing. It's dark, anyways."

-

After setting his clothes to dry, a quick shower is needed, because Komaeda can't stand the feeling of saltwater in his hair for longer than necessary, and he knows there's no other way to get the sand out from between his toes if not a quick hose down. 

When he exits their bathroom, a towel wrapped around his shoulders and body bare and shivering through his lone boxers, Hinata already has his sleepwear laid out for him. He kisses his temple in thanks, before quickly dressing and seeking out Hinata's embrace for more warmth. At some point, a little sniffle escapes him where he has to blow his nose, and Hinata starts mumbling some curses, but otherwise lets them lay in comfortable silence. 

Eventually, lying there on their backs, Komaeda lifts his hand, the metal limb not that useful for cuddling but still attached until he decides to sleep, and starts at the ring in the lowlight. He says nothing, just cranes his wrist so he can view it from different angles, watching light reflect and bounce off of the gold, and melancholy swims in his eyes.

Hinata doesn't take that long to notice, but he takes a bit longer to speak up.

"What's up?"

"Mm."

Komaeda acknowledges him mildly, gaze still fixed on his fingers, before he drops it to rest on his chest. 

"I'm just thinking."

"Yea?"

"Wondering what I did to end up here."

That's a bit odd, but not out of place for Komaeda. Hinata picks his head up, raises an eyebrow at him.

"Uh huh?"

There's vacancy in Komaeda’s eyes, inventing patterns on the ceiling as his mind swims with an emotion not so easily placed.

"I've been nothing but miserable my entire life. Disliked, unloved. I even hurt you, deeply, I hurt everyone. I killed myself to kill all of you, I believe I deserved to stay that way," he mumbles, "I hoped I would."

Hinata's brows furrow, wondering when the conversation even ended up here.

"And then I woke up."

Komaeda lifts his hand again and splays it around air.

"I woke up with a second chance. To find love, and happiness, to be held by you, kissed by you," his voice softens around a smile, curling his fingers into a fist, the ring wrapped around his knuckle, "and I did _nothing_ to deserve it."

"That's not _true_ ," is what Hinata immediately blurts out, before halting his tracks as he realizes he doesn't know how to justify that rebuttal, and Komaeda is certainly going to demand—

"How so?"

Right. There it is.

"Well, uh," Hinata stares at the ceiling and tries to not internally cringe at his lacking social competence so hard he fades from existence, "it's not exactly like...you did anything to deserve it, other than just, exist?"

In response to that, Komaeda immediately seems perplexed, an inquisitive "mmm?" in his chest as he looks at Hinata. He rushes forward with his words, doubling down.

"Like, it's not like I saved you because… you deserved it or didn't. It's not because you did some noble good to make up for it. You just… fucked up, I guess, but you _didn't_ make up for it yet. It'd be unfair if only some of us got to live on and atone, you know?" 

Hinata is rambling. Komaeda listens intently as Hinata tries to not only make sense of and untangle the knots in his lover's mind, but his own.

"And it's not fair, when you've been through… so much shit," Hinata grits his teeth a little, "and some of that shit is entirely because of _me–_ " this type of foresight isn't uncommon, but Hinata doesn't particularly like these convos, "for you to just. Die like that. Because of _her_. Because of _me_."

Hinata's tone is a bit melancholy, sullen, as he finishes that off, and Komaeda finds that a downtrodden feeling emerging from Kamukura's withering mistakes, is always palpable when it seizes Hinata, so he places a warm hand on his arm for comfort, encouragement; forgiveness, even. He doesn't speak, used to sitting quietly and listening when Hinata goes on rants like this now. And, it’s clear that Hinata is leaving something out:

Komaeda didn’t earn it, none of them did, but Hinata felt like leaving them all comatose because of _his_ actions would be nothing but a one way ticket to hell. He couldn’t forgive himself if he wasn’t able to wake them up, if he couldn’t bring back his friends, couldn’t make Nanami proud, and for better or for worse, couldn’t finally understand Komaeda, and understand how Komaeda made him feel.

And they’ve all got to atone. For one reason or another.

Hinata clears his throat and continues.

"And you know that you deserved to wake up as much as everyone else," he says, voice firmer, expression stern. "You're not the only one that tried to kill everyone, technically. Hanamura did, Pekoyama, Tsumiki… it's not just you. And it's… what you did is bad, but it was the situation that made you," Hinata murmurs, putting his hand over Komaeda’s and squeezing. It's a gesture that provides comfort like no other, sincerity, and grounds him. "Even...Nanami understood that."

Komaeda feels a flicker of pain, dulled by time but never gone, hearing her name. Hinata must feel it too, because he pauses briefly to sigh, before pressing forward. 

"And you know, you act like no one ever liked you. But I… did, before that first trial, you made me feel _safe_ , and then," Hinata sighs in frustration. "Then you confused me, and all I wanted was to understand you. I wanted to see you again. I _wanted_ you to wake up. S-So. Don't be selfish. And, you make me happy, so… I _want_ to marry you."

"Mmm," Komaeda hums again and squeezes his hand back. A smile, knowing a bit too pleased is barely restrained as he takes in his words, feels his chest fill with love. "Would it be too tedious for you to explain just how I make you happy?" he asks teasingly.

"Come _on_ ," Hinata scoffs, laughs in disbelief, but his face is a bit red.

"I'm _very_ confused, Hajime. You may need to be detailed, I can't even _imagine_ how–"

To shut him up, Hinata kisses him. It's short and sweet, and does it’s job.

"You know I'm not good at this," Hinata mumbles against his lips, squeezing his eyes shut as he hovers over Komaeda, "I'm miserable at this, actually."

"Nonsense–"

"Don't stroke my ego when I don't deserve it."

Another kiss. Komaeda melts into it eagerly, cupping Hinata's face between his palms. The bed dips as Hinata bows forward and carefully puts his weight over Komaeda, circling his arms around him and holding him close; one of his hands travels upwards and buries itself in his messy, white curls, stroking his fingers through tangles and massaging his scalp. He can _feel_ Komaeda relax considerably beneath him, and after a moment, he pulls away, instead resting his forehead on his.

“Point taken,” Komaeda murmurs. “You could be more thorough in your methods, though.”

Hinata huffs out his nose and lightly bonks his forehead against Komaeda’s, making the man beneath him giggle and snake his arms around his neck, leading him for a proper cuddle.

“So long as you get it,” Hinata grumbles, burying his face in the crook between his lover’s neck and shoulder, shutting his eyes. “Then we can figure out who will be your best man.”

Komaeda scratches his dull fingernails against Hinata’s head with softness, staring up at the ceiling.

“Maybe _I_ want Soda-kun.”

“Oh, my god,” Hinata groans. “Don’t give him that satisfaction, _please_. He’ll probably cry, and then act like he’s being fought over and make it a big deal. I can’t deal with that.”

As Hinata speaks, laughter erupts out of Komaeda’s chest in soft, crescending waves, making his chest quiver beneath his boyfriend’s weight. 

“But don’t you think Soda-kun deserves that, even just a little bit?”

“ _No_.”

Komaeda snorts.

Hinata is smiling, even if it’s hidden.

“Let’s figure it out in the morning. Okay? I bet Nidai would be pumped.”

“Nidai-kun very well might be… and I have been spending a good deal of time with him, now…”

Hinata makes an affirmative noise and gets up off of Komaeda, shifting over to lie beside him and holding an arm up and out, inviting Komaeda in his embrace. He shuffles over and tangles their legs together, buries his face in Hinata’s shoulder.

With a gentle hum, the sounds of the ocean drifting through their fluttering curtains, they fall asleep.


End file.
